Canvas
by PikaScootaloo
Summary: Smeargle can't draw. But maybe that isn't so bad. All he needs is a little six year old Smeargle that'll show him another perspective to it. One shot.


Your art won't sell anywhere, they said. It's not creative at all, they said. It's just a stick figure.

Sitting down and holding it as if my life depended on it, I studied my canvas thoroughly. In truth, it really was a stick figure. Nothing but a circle with a line, and that line forked into five other lines. Two arms, two legs... one tail. A tail. _A tail_. Any self respecting Smeargle would know how to at least draw _their tail_, considering the bushy tip was, more often than not, used as a brush.

But I didn't. All others saw was just a straight line. To be honest, it started to look that was to me, too.

I turned around, just now consciously aware of what other Smeargle would think seeing me entranced in a stick figure like this. What I actually saw made me relieved, but a little disappointed. Everyone just kept walking by, only a few of them giving me a glance. But that was it. Just a passing glance. I wasn't worth their time. They knew me. They knew my art. They thought I was inferior.

And how couldn't they? Smeargle like me are supposed to be artistic, creating a new, worthwhile experience with each and every stroke of a brush. We were always born with that skill to paint and use it to give every canvas a bustling life. So...

Why wasn't I born that way? Why couldn't I have at least a single artistic bone in my body? I could barely manage to draw a circle, let alone draw an entire portrait. Every time I tried shading, it looked like a mess of blurry colors. When ever I tried to actually draw a Smeargle body, it'd look shaky and disproportionate. Any time I tried drawing a Smeargle tail...

I couldn't.

That's the thing that bothered me the most. I could barely manage to draw some other stuff with the results looking bad, but at least I could draw those. With a tail, it was as if my mind couldn't process what it even looked like, despite me using it to paint every single time. I mean, my tail was always _right in front of me_, yet it was impossible to draw. The closest I could get was a straight line. Just like... Just like the stick figure drawing I was holding.

I stood up awkwardly, since my legs had fallen asleep. With absolutely no grace whatsoever, I stumbled over to my easel and set the portrait down. I sighed heavily and slumped to the ground, sitting right in front of the easel. Time seemed to fluctuate, sometimes going as fast as lightning, other times seemed to have it crawl on by. I watched each and every Smeagle walk by and studied each and every one of them. That's when I noticed something.

Everyone was different. Sure, all Smeargle looked alike, but there was something about everyone that walked by that had me thinking. Some of them walk by with their head held high, as if they were the superior ones. All of those had the tips of their tails painted in exotic colors and patterns. One had zebra stripes while another had a brilliant blue.

Then there were the ones that sulked by, frowns seemingly permanently etched on their faces. Their tails seemed to droop and drag on the ground, their tips blending in with the dewy grass. I actually felt sad for them. No, not sad. Pity, and partial anger at myself. They must have struggled to get by each day, perhaps having to sacrifice many things, and here I was weeping over my abilities (or lack thereof) to paint. I felt pretty spoiled. My life was fine just the way it was, but their's weren't. What good were artistic abilities if they didn't help you live your life?

Trying not to get any more down than I already was, I shifted my focus to more of the Smeargle that walked by. Surprisingly, most of them were walking around in content, with a few of them having another Smeargle with them. They felt bliss as long as they were with their loved ones or had them somewhere. This, surprisingly, made me feel better.

I kept watching them walk by for a good while longer when something tapped my shoulder. I turned and saw a little baby Smeargle who couldn't be older than six staring at me. Those big eyes smiled at me just as her lips did. She spoke. "Hi mister!"

Seeing as I was sitting down, I was already at eye contact with the kid. I gave a grin. "Hi there little girl. What are you doing here?"

She pointed to the canvas. "I want to know what you drew!"

I blinked. Was this girl really interested in my art? Or was she just another judgmental critic who'd tell me the complete obviousness of how bad my artistic skills were. I bet she'd walk off, laughing maniacally and—

Wait. This was a six year old. I must have been really tired or really paranoid to even think that. Or both. I turned to my painting. "It's a Smeargle. Or, rather, I _tried_ to draw one."

The little Smeargle didn't answer. Her smile vanished from her lips and her eyes as she stared at the painting intently. I almost laughed. A six year old, trying to be like an art critic? It was too silly to think of.

Instead of giving a blunt and harsh speech about how bad my art was (Yup, paranoia), she smiled again, this time with it being twice as big. "I like it!"

"You do?" was all I could say. I couldn't believe it. Someone _actually_ liked my drawing? Granted, she was just a child, but she was someone nonetheless! I felt elated, until I realized that maybe she was only saying it to be nice. There was one way to find out. "Why do you like it?"

She turned to me, and her eyes held so much joy, it seemed to be rubbing off on me. "It doesn't look like a Smeargle!"

My heart stopped, and I frowned. I should have known. Not even a six year old would like my artwork. But... why did she say that she liked it? Hesitantly, I asked, "But... you just said you liked it."

"Mmhmm!" She gave a vigorous nod.

"And you said it doesn't looked like a Smeargle."

"Mmhmm!" she hummed again, nodding.

This was confusing even for me. "That doesn't make sense."

The little Smeargle turned back to the painting. "Sure it does!" She reached for it and, after standing on her tippy toes, just barely managed to get it off the easel. Pointing at the picture and showing it to me as if I've never seen it before in my life, she started talking again. "See that? Everyone sees a stick figure. But I see... a lollipop!"

She motioned to the circle head and the line body. I laughed a little. It certainly _did_ look like a lollipop, except one without swirls. Almost as if someone had already licked it.

"Oh! Oh! I see two triangles together!" she continued, pointing to the two stick legs and tail. Heh. I guess it did look like two triangles, except both triangles had no bottom line. That actually gave me an idea,

"Maybe that's a Mewtwo's hand?" I asked, and the little girl laughed. After all, Mewtwo had three fingers; maybe he was holding his hand down?

"Yeah!" she agreed, and we both started laughing. It brought us a few stares from the locals, but I didn't care. I was having so much fun.

We kept talking about what the picture could have been. We saw a yoyo in the head and body much like the lollipop, a Christmas tree in the entire thing, a 'K' in the body and the right leg and arm, even a Gastly. But the one that made me the happiest was the final one she suggested.

"See that?" She pointed to the body, the legs, and the tail. "I see a star!"

Wait a minute... "A star has five points. This would be six."

She shook her head. "No silly! Anyone can get a five pointed star! But only the super special Smeargle can make a six pointed one! It's really unique!"

Huh. She was right. Before I could think any more of it, she continued.

"Besides, everyone makes their art so detailed... But I like this one! This one's the best, because it's so simple!" Her smile grew even wider, to the point that it seemed kind of scary.

I chuckled. "You really think so?"

"Yup!" She handed me the canvas back. "With everyone else, there's only one thing in their art... But we found a bunch of things here! And you know..."

She came over next to me and pointed at the head in the painting. "The circle on the top point on this star is you!"

"Me?" I asked, a bit dumbfounded.

Another vigorous nod. "Your painting's the best, so it's only natural the best painter would be on the top of the star!"

My heart lurched. She... she called me the best painter. No one had ever called me that. No one. Sure, this was coming from a six year old, but it was still the same. Someone thought of me as the best painter. It made me... Well, I had so many emotions that they all blended together to the point where I couldn't tell which was which. I did know, however, that I was crying. The little Smeargle gave me a hug.

"This was really fun!" she said once she finished hugging. "But I have to go home now." Her voice obtained a hint of sorrow in that remark, but she still kept her smile. Without waiting for an answer, she skipped away, a smile seemingly permanent on her face.

Turns out I was right. Her joy was rubbing off of me. I sat there, staring at my painting with a smile also cemented on my face. Even though the sun was setting, I still studied my painting thoroughly, like I had earlier in the day. Though, I didn't see worthless art anymore. I did see a star, but I also saw something even more important.

A tail, straight as a bullet. But a tail, nonetheless.


End file.
